Left Behind
by Rose DiVerona
Summary: "Some people move on. But not us." A series of one-shots centered on various characters before, during, and after the events of Endgame. Spoilers.
1. Peter Parker

A/N: After I saw Endgame, all these story ideas started bouncing around in my head. Five years is a long time, and I wanted to explore not only the characters who survived the original Snap, but also what life was like for those who had to rejoin the world after being gone half a decade. So I decided to put them all together in a series of one-shots. These will center on various characters and take place at various points in time. Obviously, major spoilers lie ahead.

* * *

_"Summer has come and passed_  
_The innocent can never last_  
_Wake me up when September ends  
__Like my father's come to pass_  
_Seven years has gone so fast_  
_Wake me up when September ends."  
_-Wake Me Up When September Ends, Green Day

**Peter Parker****  
**_(Immediately post-_Endgame _battle)_

Once the dust had settled and the shock had lifted enough to allow for rational thought, Peter realized he needed to call his aunt. Problem was, he had no idea what had happened to his phone. He thought he might have left it in on the school bus, what felt like yesterday but was apparently five years ago.

He shook himself before he dove too deeply into that rabbit-hole. He could absorb the time jump later. Dazed, he wandered past the blue guy and the girl with antennae. He wasn't even sure they would know what a phone _was_. A loud roaring made him look up as a quintjet slowly descended on the battlefield. He stumbled toward it as others rushed out with medical kits.

"Do you have a phone?" he asked the first person he came across, a woman with a long ponytail and a no-nonsense expression.

"Are you injured?" she asked brusquely.

He blinked. "What, no, I…"

She cut him off. "We need to take care of the wounded."

Peter felt tears welling up in his eyes. "Please, I need to call my aunt…"

A voice interrupted them. "Hill. Give the kid your phone."

Peter looked to the left to see a tall man with an eyepatch staring directly at him. He had no idea who this guy was, but he must have been somebody important, because Hill immediately handed over her cell. Peter almost started crying again when he recognized it as StarkTech. With shaking fingers, he dialed.

"Hello?"

His aunt's voice had never sounded more beautiful, and a gargantuan lump formed in Peter's throat. "Aunt May?"

There was a sharp intake of breath. "Peter?"

Peter nodded, then realized she couldn't see him. "Yeah…it's me."

"Oh my God." His aunt was crying now. "Oh, thank God. Where are you? I'll come get you, wherever you are, sweetie."

He looked around at the ruined landscape. "I'm at the Avengers compound, but you might have some trouble getting here. There's been a battle."

His aunt took a moment to process this. "I don't care. I'm coming, I'm on my way."

"Peter." A familiar voice brought his attention back toward the jet, and he sucked in a breath. Happy Hogan pointed to the phone. "I'll take you home."

Peter nodded. He couldn't take his eyes off Happy. Did the man know?

"May, Happy's gonna bring me home, okay? I'll be there soon. I love you." He hung up before his aunt could argue.

"Come on, kid." Happy's gentle voice made Peter's eyes sting again.

"Happy, Mr. Stark, he—"

"I know." The man's face was set in a grim line, and the ensuing silence followed them into the car and all the way back to the city.

It wasn't until they were almost home that Peter realized he was still holding Hill's phone.


	2. Tony Stark

A/N: I originally wrote this one right after seeing _Infinity War_ a year ago, with the intention of developing it into a longer piece. That never happened, so it's found a home here instead.

* * *

_"Now don't hang on_  
_Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky_  
_It slips away_  
_And all your money won't another minute buy_  
_Dust in the wind_  
_All we are is dust in the wind..."  
_-Dust in the Wind, Kansas

**Tony Stark**  
_(Immediately post-_Infinity War_)_

Tony can't breathe.

He can't breathe, and it isn't because he's in space or because moments ago he was skewered like a piece of meat on a kabob.

He's failed.

A sixteen-year-old kid has just died in his arms. A kid. A kid _he_ brought into this fight.

_I don't want to go._

He rocks back and forth, despair pressing in like a physical force. He sucks air in through clenched teeth.

He's never felt anything like this before. The closest he's come was those few moments when he thought Pepper had died at the hands of Aldrich Killian. But even that can't really compare, because there had still been an enemy to defeat and she was back before he could begin to process her being gone.

This is different. This time he's helpless. Just like Wanda's vision, he's kneeling in the wreckage and everyone around him is dead.

_I don't want to go._

He can't hold back the strangled cry that suddenly claws its way out of his chest. He's dimly aware of Blue Alien Girl watching him, but she isn't saying anything so he ignores her.

He stares down at the pile of dust that used to be Peter Parker and his vision blurs.

_I'm so sorry, kid._


	3. Pepper Potts

_"I need you like water_  
_Like breath, like rain_  
_I need you like mercy_  
_From heaven's gate_  
_There's a freedom in your arms_  
_That carries me through_  
_I need you."  
_-I Need You, LeAnn Rimes

**Pepper Potts  
**_(During _Endgame, _when Captain Marvel brings the ship carrying Tony and Nebula back to the Avengers compound)_

Pepper couldn't believe her eyes. The haggard, half-starved man in front of her barely resembled the Tony Stark she'd last seen almost a month ago. But it was him. She rushed forward, trying to gulp back a sob.

"Oh my God," she whispered. She wanted to embrace him, but he looked like he was about to fall over so she settled for tucking herself under his arm and replacing Steve as his crutch as they hobbled across the lawn.

At first Tony didn't seem to notice her. He didn't seem cognizant of much at all. Then his eyes lazily swung over to her.

"Pep." His voice was barely there, but just hearing it again almost made her burst into tears.

"Yes, Tony, I'm here."

His head lolled onto her shoulder.

"'m sorry," he slurred.

"Shh, everything's going to be okay now."

As they drew near to the compound, Tony leaned more and more of his weight into her, and Pepper felt her legs begin to buckle. Then the burden was lifted, and she looked over to see that Rhodey had slung Tony's other arm around his neck. They shared a small, sad smile.

**:**

Getting Tony cleaned up and put to bed was no small feat, and Pepper was grateful for Bruce's help. His methodical doctor's approach kept her calm even when she saw the ugly wound in her fiancé's abdomen. After hooking Tony up to an IV, Bruce left the two of them alone.

Tony kept murmuring over and over, "The kid. I lost the kid."

Pepper guessed "the kid" was Spider-Man.

"It's all right, Tony. You need to rest."

He opened his eyes and looked through her. "I couldn't save him."

Pepper fought back tears. She'd never seen Tony look so…lost.

"It wasn't your fault," she whispered.

He blinked slowly and managed to focus on her face. "Pepper…love you."

"I love you, too."

**:**

An hour later, Tony was sleeping peacefully, and Pepper quietly slipped out of the room so he wouldn't be roused by her sobs as the relief finally became overwhelming. She sank onto a padded bench in the hallway and buried her face in her hands as her shoulders shook violently.

Natasha found her there a few minutes later and wordlessly took a seat. When the tears slowed, Pepper lifted her head.

"You know, I used to tell myself that if Tony didn't give up being Iron Man, I was going to leave him."

Natasha smirked. "And how's that plan working out for you?"

"Not very well." Pepper sighed and smiled somewhat ruefully. "Every time I think I've reached my limit, he runs off again." Her voice cracked.

"He's going to be okay, Pepper."

The red-headed woman made a noncommittal sound and wiped her eyes. "So what happens next?"

"We find Thanos." Natasha's expression was grim. "And we figure out how to bring everyone back."


	4. Clint Barton

A/N: Warning for discussion of suicide.

* * *

_"Put to rest what you thought of me_  
_While I clean this slate_  
_With the hands of uncertainty_  
_So let mercy come and wash away_  
_What I've done_  
_I'll face myself to cross out what I've become_  
_Erase myself_  
_And let go of what I've done."_  
-What I've Done, Linkin Park

**Clint Barton  
**_(Sometime shortly after _Endgame_)_

With his family back exactly the way he remembered them, Clint could almost pretend the last five years were just a brutal nightmare. Almost. But the scars he had earned were real and he couldn't unsee the things he had done.

He wasn't sure how to adjust back to life as a husband and father. It wasn't like he could talk about the way he'd dealt with losing his entire family. Even Laura knew only that he'd had a very difficult time, which didn't make him any different from the rest of the world. As much as he wanted to confide in someone, he knew his wife wasn't that person. She'd never look at him the same way again. No—the woman Clint could always count on, could always talk to, was dead. And it was his fault.

Most nights he couldn't sleep, which wasn't anything new. The nightmares that kept him awake had changed, though—he didn't dream about the people he'd killed anymore. Now his sleeping hours were filled with visions of Natasha falling to her death. After she hit the ground, blood pooling around her head, she'd look accusingly up at him and ask why he had failed her.

To avoid reliving that scene, he'd taken to restlessly wandering the rooms of the farmhouse, checking again and again to make sure Laura and the kids were still there. If they disappeared again, he'd decided, he was going to end his own life. Suicide was not a new idea for Clint. There had been one or two close calls over the past few years, but he'd pulled himself back each time. Vormir was the closest he'd come to actually following through. His death would at least have meant something there.

Clint knew he'd never survive losing everything a second time.


	5. Natasha Romanoff

_"If I lay here_  
_If I just lay here_  
_Would you lie with me and just forget the world?"  
_-Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

**Natasha Romanoff  
**_(After _Endgame_)_

Natasha sat on a beach of soft white sand, gazing out across a vast, shimmering ocean. The sky overhead was a tapestry of brilliant blue. It smelled like coconut.

If this was being dead, it wasn't so bad.

**:**

She'd been expecting Steve. He was just the type to pull some big heroic stunt and end up getting himself killed.

So when it was Stark she saw walking toward her along the shore, she was surprised.

Not because she didn't think Tony would sacrifice himself if it meant saving the world. She'd long ago had to rethink her initial analysis of Anthony Edward Stark. But he had a wife and daughter, factors he'd have to take into consideration when faced with possible death. Evidently, he'd decided it was worth the risk.

He grinned. "You were expecting Rogers."

There was no point in lying. "Yes."

He settled into the sand next to her and crossed his legs. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, Agent Romanoff, but it's my ugly mug you get to look at for the foreseeable future."

"What happened?" she asked. As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized she already knew. She could see the battle like it was happening right in front of her. "Your daughter…"

"—has a mother who loves her and a better world to grow up in," he finished. "I couldn't ask for more than that." He gave her a pointed look. "Besides, I'm not the only one who made the sacrifice play."

Natasha shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. "Someone had to die. I was the obvious choice."

"Not to Clint."

"Clint can be kind of an idiot."

"Takes one to know one!" Tony crowed. Then he winced. "Sorry. I've been spending a lot of time watching kiddie TV shows with a five-year-old."

Natasha smirked. "I'm sorry I didn't get to know her better."

"You were busy running what was left of the Avengers. Doing the job the rest of us couldn't."

"We all had to deal with what happened in our own way," Natasha said gently.

Tony hummed. "So, is this it?" he asked, waving around at their general surroundings.

"I don't think so." Natasha plucked a shell from the sand and turned it over in her hands. She nodded out at the ocean. "I have the weirdest feeling there's something out there. Somewhere else we're supposed to go."

"Yeah." Tony slowly lay back, staring up at the darkening sky. "But I'm not ready yet."

Natasha stretched out next to him. "Neither am I." She reached out and felt another palm meet hers.

They held hands and waited for the stars.


	6. Wanda Maximoff

_"When you're gone_  
_The pieces of my heart are missin' you_  
_When you're gone_  
_The face I came to know is missin', too..."_  
-When You're Gone, Avril Lavigne

**Wanda Maximoff  
**_(After_ Endgame_)_

Sometimes, Wanda dreamed of her brother. In these dreams, they were always back in the home they'd shared with their parents in Sokovia. Pietro would grin at her before launching into one of his fantastical stories. Of the two of them, he had always been the talker.

Wanda cherished these visions, memories of a life stolen away long ago.

But after defeating Thanos, it was the Wakandan plains she saw, and Vision was the one greeting her with a smile.

"Hello, Wanda."

"Vis?" She reached out and ran her thumb along the empty indentation where the Mind Stone belonged. "How…?"

He gently took her hand and pressed her palm against his cheek.

"I don't need it anymore," he explained. "Not here."

Her arm fell to her side. "You're dead."

"In your world…yes."

Wanda felt tears fill her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sad, dear Wanda. My death was inevitable. Thanos needed the six stones to activate the gauntlet. He would never have stopped until he had them all."

"It isn't fair," she said bitterly, crossing her arms and half turning away.

"Life rarely is." Vision offered his arm. "Will you take a walk with me?"

Smirking despite herself at the android's gentility, Wanda hooked her arm through his and they set off across the vast, grassy expanse.

"It's beautiful here," Vision said after a few minutes. When Wanda murmured in distracted agreement, he nudged her gently. "What are you thinking about?"

"I don't know what to do now," Wanda admitted. "My home is destroyed. Stark and Romanoff are dead, Steve and Clint have retired…I'm not even sure there is an Avengers team anymore." She shrugged. "I feel like I don't have a purpose."

"You've spent so long fighting and running…perhaps it's time you simply _lived_."

A small smile played at the corners of the Witch's mouth. "I'm not sure I know how."

Vision halted and took Wanda's hands in his own. "You have a pure heart, Wanda. You want to help people. But you don't need to be an Avenger to do that."

Wanda felt the dream fading, and impulsively, she reached up and cupped Vision's face in her palms. "I'm sorry we didn't get more time together."

"As am I. But I am grateful that in my brief life, I had the chance to know you."

She pressed her lips to his synthetic ones, holding on to the moment.

"I love you."

* * *

A/N: Struggled with this one. To be honest, Wanda is probably my least favorite Avenger. I don't know how exactly she earned that distinction - I think maybe I never forgave her for the vision she made Tony have in Age of Ultron. And then she joined Team Cap, which didn't help.


	7. Happy Hogan

_"The world turned upside down…"  
_-Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down), _Hamilton_

**Happy Hogan  
**_(During_ Endgame_'s five-year gap)_

At first, some people said it was the Rapture—that Jesus had taken his true followers home and left the rest of us behind. But that's ridiculous.

I mean, the Pope didn't disappear, but the president of the United States did. That alone proves this was no act of God.

Obviously, the fallout was huge. Half the world's population vanished, in the blink of an eye. Or, in this case, at a single fingersnap.

Once the full story finally came out, the blame fell on the Avengers. No big surprise there—people like to have someone concrete to point fingers at, someone other than a dead alien on another planet. The Avengers were supposed to protect the world, and they failed.

But the outrage burned out pretty quickly. Every day was a struggle just to get out of bed, to face the magnitude of what had been lost. No one had the energy to hold a grudge.

I got lucky. I lost my mother, but she was dying anyway, so I'd already sort of prepared myself to say goodbye. We lost the Parker kid, too, which was tough—more so for Tony, who felt responsible.

Honestly, I think the hardest part for me was how quickly and dramatically everything changed after the Snap. Companies imploded. The stock market tanked. Governments stalled.

For the first time ever, money wasn't important. Power wasn't important. It was _people _that mattered. I guess if you dig down deep enough, even a warlord is just a human being with a family.

For weeks, it felt like the whole world just stopped turning. And the thing was, nobody seemed to care.

Then humankind did what it has for centuries, in the face of enormous odds—it rallied.

People began to pick up the pieces of their lives. It was an agonizing process, and not everyone was successful. You got used to witnessing random break-downs in the street.

It was our new normal.


	8. Nebula

_"You're vulnerable, you're vulnerable  
You are not a robot  
You're lovable, so lovable  
But you're just troubled."  
_-I Am Not a Robot, Marina and the Diamonds

**Nebula  
**_(Right after _Infinity War_)_

It wasn't too difficult to locate the _Benatar_, but one look told Nebula the ship would not be going anywhere without some serious work.

She returned to where she had left the human. He was stacking little bits of debris into a monument of some kind.

"That will not bring them back."

The human spared her a glance before continuing his project.

"I know."

"Then why are you wasting time?"

He sighed, staring down at the slab of rock in his hand. "Do you have funerals where you're from?"

"I do not know. Thanos took me from my planet when I was an infant. I have never been back."

This time the human gave her his full attention. She did not like the pity on his face.

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. He pursed his lips and carefully placed the rock on top of the pile, wincing as he did so.

"You are injured." Nebula jerked her head toward the _Benatar_. "There are likely medical supplies onboard."

"Might be kinder to just let me bleed out."

"I have never been kind," Nebula said matter-of-factly, crouching to help the human stand up. She had no intention of letting him die, but she would never admit that part of the reason was she didn't want to be alone out here.

The human leaned against her. "I'm Tony, by the way. Tony Stark."

She did not take his proffered hand, instead slinging his arm around her shoulders and beginning the slow trek back to the ship.

But after a moment, she said quietly, "Nebula."

**:**

"Whatcha doing?"

Only Nebula's training prevented her from jumping at the interruption. After she'd treated Stark with the ship's rather pathetic first aid kit, the human had dropped off to sleep. She'd left him lying in the cockpit and started working on the ship, confident he would be out for several hours, at least. Apparently she was mistaken.

"I am attempting to repair the fuel cells."

"Oh. Can I help?" Stark stepped a little closer, blocking the light, and Nebula gritted her teeth.

"You can help by staying out of the way," she hissed.

Stark didn't retreat. "I'm pretty good at fixing things," he offered. "A friend back on Earth calls me 'The Mechanic.'"

Nebula shook her head. "You will further aggravate your injuries. And we do not have adequate supplies to treat you as it is."

"I'm fine."

For the first time, Nebula actually looked up at the human. His face was a chalky white and he was swaying slightly. Swearing, she dropped the wrench she was holding and lurched to her feet.

**:**

Stark kept talking as she cleaned his wound.

"I've had worse than this," he said conversationally.

Nebula raised an eyebrow. Was she supposed to be impressed?

"I was in Afghanistan, at a demonstration. There was a bomb. It exploded and I got caught in the blast." He blinked up at the ceiling. "Some terrorists pretty much performed open-heart surgery and hooked me up to a car battery so the shrapnel wouldn't kill me."

Nebula began to pack up the medical supplies. "My father sent my sister and I on a mission to look for the Power Stone on Praxius IX. I fell into a trap, and my father made me save myself. To escape, I was forced to amputate my own arm."

Stark looked sickened. "Okay, you win."

She turned away so he wouldn't see the pained expression on her face.

**:**

Nebula sat in the pilot's chair, spinning a knife between her fingers and thinking about Gamora. She hoped her sister's death had been quick.

"I was supposed to get married."

She looked up in surprise. She thought Stark had fallen asleep in his seat, but apparently not. He wasn't looking at her. His gaze was far away.

"She's probably better off without me," he slurred.

**:**

They worked side by side. Stark hadn't been lying when he said he was good at fixing things. Even though the technology was completely foreign, he had a good eye and an intuitive touch.

"Want to hear something funny?" Stark grinned.

"Not particularly."

Predictably, he ignored her. "Where would an astronaut park his spaceship? A parking meteor!" He chortled at his own joke. Then he frowned down at the mass of wires he was inspecting. "I think I left the snippers by the pantry. Be right back."

He staggered off, and Nebula watched him go, bemused.

Stark was odd. He had a frustratingly fragile body and he talked too much.

But there was something about him she couldn't help liking.


	9. Peter Quill

A/N: Sam's chapter was supposed to be next, but I just really enjoy writing Nebula so this one snuck in first.

* * *

_"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone_  
_It's not warm when she's away_  
_Ain't no sunshine when she's gone_  
_And she's always gone too long_  
_Anytime she goes away."  
_-Ain't No Sunshine, Bill Withers

**Peter Quill  
**_(Shortly after_ Endgame_)_

"Come on. Where are you?" Quill mumbled to the map he had pulled up. It was late night on the _Benatar_, and everyone else was asleep. But he couldn't stop searching. Gamora was somewhere out there.

"If my sister does not want to be found, you will not find her."

"Jesus!" Quill jumped a foot in the air and turned to give the resident Luphomoid assassin an incredulous look. "Give a guy some warning."

"Warning an enemy of your arrival is not an effective tactic for victory," Nebula noted, filing her nails with a lethal-looking blade.

"But we're not enemies…right?" Quill was suddenly unsure. "I mean, you're not gonna sneak up on me in the middle of the night and stab me?"

For a long moment, she didn't reply, staring at him unnervingly and caressing the knife. Then she sighed and slipped it out of sight.

"No. We are not enemies."

Relieved, Quill turned back to the screen. "Good to hear."

He was hoping Nebula would slink away and leave him alone, but instead she sauntered closer. "Even if you find her, she isn't the Gamora you knew."

His shoulders slumped slightly. "I know. I mean, I know she's like she was when I first met her, but I also know the woman I love is in there somewhere."

"Sentiment." Nebula sounded almost wistful, or maybe he was imagining things. Quill turned and met her eyes.

"You can't tell me you don't miss her, too, even just a little bit?" He expected her to scoff but instead she lowered her gaze.

"…I do."

"Then help me find her. You know her better than anybody."

Nebula eyed him calculatingly. "I will help you find my sister…if you will play paper football with me."

Now Quill was sure he was imagining things. "Huh?"

"I tried to teach Rocket," she explained, "but his arms are too short." She cocked her head. "You _do _know the game I am speaking of, correct?"

"Of course I know what paper football is!" Quill said defensively. "I'm just trying to figure out how the hell _you _know, and why you give a rat's ass about it."

She folded her arms across her chest and looked at the floor again. "Stark taught me how to play," she admitted quietly. "I found it a surprisingly pleasant pastime. A battle in which no blood is shed."

Quill still wasn't sure he understood, but she was offering to help him, so he decided he'd ponder possible nefarious motives later.

"Okay." He extended his hand. "Deal."

They shook, and just like that Nebula's vulnerability vanished. She elbowed Quill aside and strode up to the holo-screen.

"All right. Let's get started."


	10. Sam Wilson

_"The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old  
But his blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul  
My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man  
I'm just a living legacy to the leader of the band."  
_-Leader of the Band, Dan Fogelberg

**Sam Wilson  
**_(Six months after _Endgame_)_

Steven Grant Rogers passed away on October 24, 2023, at the age of 105, and was laid to rest on Halloween. Millions mourned the death of the man they'd known as Captain America.

A select few mourned the friend they'd known as simply Steve.

**:**

Still in the suit he'd worn to his friend's funeral, Sam sat on the couch in his apartment and stared at the large, metallic disk leaned up against the coffee table.

When Steve first gave him the shield, Sam tucked it away in the back of his closet. After all, it didn't really belong to him. Surely Steve would change his mind. But he never had, and now he was gone, and Sam was left with one of the most iconic superhero weapons of all time and all the implications that came with it.

Like so many other boys, Sam had grown up idolizing Captain America. He and his friends played superhero after school and everyone fought over who got to play the star-spangled super soldier. They even had a cardboard shield cut into a crude circle. Together, they fought fantastic battles against the Nazis or whoever was designated the enemy of the week.

As a child, Sam had felt invincible. Now he just felt unworthy.

Captain America was a great hero. But Steve Rogers had been a good man, and in Sam's eyes, that meant a lot more.

The sound of a key in the door alerted Sam to the arrival of his roommate. Bucky stepped inside, glancing at the shield.

"Hey. You got out of there pretty fast."

Sam sighed. "Yeah. Just…couldn't take all the crowds, you know?"

Bucky made a sound of agreement, dropping into an armchair. "A lot of people loved Steve."

"Yeah."

"But not many of them knew him like we did."

Sam shook his head, recalling a news broadcast from a few days before in which someone had remarked that Captain America was supposed to live forever. There was a time Sam would have thought so, too, but in the end, Steve was human, just like everybody else.

"I miss him," he admitted. "I miss fighting at his side."

"Me, too." Bucky nodded at the shield and smiled at Sam. "At least he appointed a successor before he died."

"It should be you. You knew him longer than I did."

"If I was meant to have that shield, Steve would have given it to me," Bucky said firmly. "He chose you for a reason."

"I just wish I knew what that reason was."


	11. Steve Rogers

_"If you're lost and alone  
Or you're sinking like a stone  
Carry on  
May your past be the sound  
__Of your feet upon the ground  
Carry on  
__Carry on, carry on."  
_-Carry On, fun.

**Steve Rogers  
**_(After Thanos is killed at the beginning of _Endgame_)_

Steve gave himself two weeks. Fourteen days to mourn the friends he'd lost forever because the Infinity Stones had been destroyed. Then he pulled himself together and thought about how he was going to move forward.

Tony's words echoed in his head: _You weren't there_. If he had been, if he'd been on Titan, would he have been able to stop Thanos? Steve knew it was useless to ponder the what ifs. He couldn't bring back the people who were gone, but he might be able to help the ones who were still here.

He got the idea from Sam's work with Veterans Affairs. His friend used to speak so highly of the counseling program he participated in—and if there was ever a time for counseling, it was now. So Steve formed a support group.

No one showed up to the first three meetings. He kept coming.

On week four, a young woman stepped tentatively into the room.

"Hi." Steve greeted her without standing up, wary of scaring away his only visitor so far.

"You're Captain America." She was visibly surprised.

"Steve," he said. "It's just Steve."

The woman tried to muster a smile and failed miserably. "I'm Sheila."

Steve waved at the circle of chairs. "It's nice to meet you, Sheila. Would you like to take a seat?"

Sheila chose a chair and sat, nervously playing with a ring on her finger.

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet," she confessed. "I just…I don't even really know why I came…except I didn't want to be alone anymore." Her voice broke. "Is it okay if I just sit here with you for a little while?"

"Of course," Steve said gently. "We can sit as long as you want."

**:**

By the third month, there was a small core group that came to pretty much every meeting. There was Sheila, who finally revealed that her fiancé had vanished three days before their wedding. Mick and Jessie lost their kids; nineteen-year-old Tom, his parents. Angelo showed up on week eight but only shared his story several sessions later.

"One minute they were there, and the next they were gone," he explained, tears tracking silently down his cheeks. "My wife and son both."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Steve said quietly. It was what he said to everyone, and he meant it every time.

"The thing is," Angelo continued, "for weeks I blamed _you_."

Steve nodded. He was used to this confession. "And now?"

Angelo sagged. "Now…I don't know. Is laying blame going to bring my family back? I don't think it will."

**:**

Later that day, Steve drove upstate to visit Natasha, who was currently living alone at the compound. He found her on her knees in the courtyard, planting flowers. It was strange, but also oddly comforting, to see her performing such a mundane task. The garden had always been Bruce's domain; Steve thought she must miss him.

Of course, she heard him coming. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and smiled at him.

"Hey. I just hung up with Tony."

"And how are he and Pepper?"

Nat's expression turned impish. "Pregnant."

Steve's eyebrows flew up. "Really? Good for them."

"He asked about you," Natasha said casually. "I told him he could call you himself and he said he's tried twice." Her eyes narrowed. "Is that true?"

Steve sighed. "What am I supposed to say, Nat? I don't want to fight with Tony anymore."

She softened and got to her feet, laying a hand on his arm. "It wasn't your fault, Steve. Tony knows that. He's _always_ known that. I don't think he wants to fight, either."

Steve wasn't so sure, but he knew Natasha wouldn't give up until she got the answer she wanted.

"I'll call him later this week," he promised.

Nat squeezed his arm. "Good. Now, since you're here, you can help me with some weeding..."


	12. Harley Keener

A/N: I was so excited when I saw Harley at the funeral in _Endgame_. Tony's interactions with kids are honestly one of my favorite parts of the MCU.

* * *

_"I've seen fire and I've seen rain  
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end  
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend  
But I always thought that I'd see you again."  
_-Fire and Rain, James Taylor

**Harley Keener  
**_(At Tony's funeral)_

Harley hadn't expected to be invited to the funeral. After all, he hadn't actually seen Tony in a decade. Sure, they'd kept in touch. Harley still liked tinkering with mechanics, and he enjoyed bouncing ideas off his more experienced friend. As the years passed and Harley grew up, his relationship with Tony deepened into one of mutual respect.

But surely someone as famous as _Tony Stark _had a lot of well-wishers, and Harley didn't expect to be considered one of the important ones. So when Pepper called him, he was (pleasantly) surprised.

"It would be really nice if you could come," Pepper told him softly. "Tony would have wanted you there."

Harley was flattered, but he wasn't sure how he was going to get to New York from Tennessee. Transportation was a mess, as the world was reeling from the sudden reappearance of nearly four billion people.

When he expressed this concern to Pepper, she told him she'd send a plane. One of the perks of being Stark Industries' CEO.

And that was that.

**:**

On any other occasion, Harley would have been starstruck by the assembly of superheroes and actual _aliens _present at Tony's funeral. It was every one of his childhood dreams come true. But because of the circumstances, his excitement was muted. All of these people were mourning, just like he was.

Watching Tony's widow and young daughter, Harley felt conspicuously out of place. Maybe he knew Tony better than some of the others in attendance, but this was Tony's _family._

For a moment, he wondered why he was even there. But then the image of the lab Tony had gifted him appeared in his head. He remembered how excited his sister had been when she opened the package addressed to her and found not only a replacement watch, but tons of other limited-edition Dora the Explorer merchandise. And when the "Snap" happened and his sister vanished, talking to Tony had been one of the only things that could make Harley smile. Tony had looked out for the Keener family over the years, so Harley must have meant something to him.

When the funeral was over, Harley lingered uncertainly by the lake as the crowd dispersed. Finally, he was approached by a man he'd seen hovering around Pepper most of the day.

"You're Harley?" When he nodded, the man extended a hand. "James Rhodes. But everyone calls me Rhodey."

Harley knew about Rhodey, of course. Tony used to call him the "mother hen." But it was pretty cool to meet War Machine in person, and Harley heard himself accidentally voicing that sentiment. His cheeks burned.

"Sorry…that was weird."

Rhodey chuckled. "S'okay, kid. It's cool to meet you, too." His expression turned somber. "You know, you really helped Tony out a few years ago."

Harley frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Tony blamed himself for the Snap. We all took it hard, but I was really worried about him. I'm not sure how much you know about what happened…"

"He told me he was in space," Harley said, recalling Tony's curt explanation. "Which must have been really scary."

Rhodey nodded. "And he wasn't dealing with it at all. Then one day he mentioned he'd talked to you, and it was like something flipped a switch in his head. He started to come back to life."

Harley could feel his face turning red again. He gazed out across the lake.

"I just wish I could bring him back this time."


	13. Valkyrie

_"They love the way I walk  
'Cause I walk with a vengeance  
And they listen to me when I talk 'cause I ain't pretending  
It took a while, now I understand just where I'm goin'  
I know the world and I know who I am  
It's 'bout time I show it."  
_-Grown Woman, Beyoncé

**Valkyrie  
**_(After _Endgame_)_

Sometimes Valkyrie thought about the years she'd wasted on Sakaar and wondered how her life might be different if she had returned to Asgard after the original battle with Hela, instead of running away. If she had faced defeat with honor and dealt with losing her comrades, rather than drinking away their memory.

Would things have turned out the same? Would she still be queen of New Asgard? She didn't think so.

For one thing, she had no idea how this hypothetical version of herself would have reacted to Hela's massacre of the Asgardians, and then to the Snap. It was Valkyrie's extended absence from her homeland that had enabled her to move on after those tragedies, because she didn't have any loved ones to lose. She'd been able to help her people find a new home on Earth and continue to be a valuable member of society in the ensuing five years.

She also doubted she'd ever have developed a relationship with Thor; even if she had, it would have been very different from the one they had now. She and Thor had a lot in common. They were both proud fighters, unaccustomed to losing battles. But each of them _had _lost—had failed—and they'd both avoided dealing with it. Though Valkyrie couldn't pretend to know exactly why the God of Thunder had chosen her to sit on the throne in his place, she imagined their shared experiences were a contributing factor.

Thor said, "It's time for me to be who I am, instead of who I'm supposed to be." There was a lot of truth to that. Valkyrie was _supposed _to be an elite warrior—and she had been, for a while. But now, after years of trying to be someone else, it was time for her to be what she _was_: a leader.

**:**

The first step was to get the people on her side. Despite the positive reputation she'd built in the years Thor had been a drunken recluse, not everyone was a fan of Valkyrie becoming the sovereign. Theirs was a kingdom deeply rooted in tradition. Odin had been king for centuries, and some of the Asgardians were reluctant to see someone not of his bloodline ascend the throne.

Really, the problem wasn't with the people who survived the Snap and had already been living in New Asgard. For the most part, they'd accepted that their lives had been irrevocably altered, and a new queen was just the latest change. No—Valkyrie's most vocal opponents were those who had vanished; who remembered the "Golden Age" of Asgard as though it were weeks in the past, rather than years.

She couldn't really blame them for their doubts. They didn't know her. But they didn't know this world, either, didn't know how hard the past five years had been, hadn't watched their "king" drink himself into oblivion.

"But that's not the way we've always done it!" the doubters complained.

Valkyrie's response was always a variation of: "There is going to be change. Change is necessary and appropriate given our situation. We aren't on Asgard anymore and it's useless to pretend we can go on as we did before."

To Valkyrie's surprise, Korg proved to be one of her most useful allies. He and Miek had elected to remain behind when Thor left with the Guardians, and that was a blessing in disguise. It was impossible not to like Korg. It was also impossible not to _notice _Korg. People paid attention to him. And he was one of the new queen's staunchest supporters.

He was also a big help in carrying out Valkyrie's first major initiative as queen—housing. New Asgard had been built for half the population it was now home to. Temporary shelters were quickly erected to accommodate the overflow, but a permanent solution was definitely a priority. Korg's size and strength were ideal for construction work, and his cheerful demeanor was contagious. Structures took shape in record time, and New Asgard began to look like a real home.

**:**

As the months passed and New Asgard prospered, its queen thrived. Valkyrie discovered she had a knack for politics. She listened to what others had to say and she genuinely loved and respected her subjects.

And when a few of her advisors, including some of the initial naysayers, suggested they hold a formal coronation ceremony, she knew she had earned her people's love and respect as well.


	14. May Parker

_"In my dreams I'll always see you soar above the sky,_  
_In my heart there'll always be a place for you,_  
_For all my life  
I'll keep a part of you with me,_  
_And everywhere I am there you'll be."  
_-There You'll Be, Faith Hill

**May Parker  
**_(One year post-_Infinity War_)_

_It was August 10, 2010—Peter's ninth birthday. The boy in question bounced up and down in his chair as May placed a cake on the table in front of him and began to light the candles._

_"Cool! Look, Uncle Ben, it has Iron Man on it!"_

_Ben's voice held an audible smile. "Yes, I see." Peter beamed._

_His aunt stooped and kissed his forehead. "Make a wish, sweetie."_

May pressed Pause, freezing the home video with her nephew grinning toothily at the camera. It felt like he was looking right at her.

She took a shaky breath, reaching automatically for a tissue. But there were no tears in her eyes. Oh, she'd cried. Day and night, for hours and hours, once she realized Peter was never coming home.

It was different when Ben died. At least there had been a body to bury. Peter was just…gone. There was no funeral, no chance to say goodbye, no _closure._

It still didn't feel real.

May eyed the half-full bottle of wine on the counter, weighing the temptation of having another glass against the hangover it would no doubt give her in the morning.

_Screw it._

**:**

Despite the lateness of the hour, she knew he would answer her call. He always did, ever since the first time, when she'd demanded to know where the hell her nephew was.

Happy Hogan's voice was groggy on the other end of the line. "Hey."

May felt the knot in her stomach loosen slightly. "Hi. Did I wake you?"

"I was up." An obvious lie, but May let it slide and took a sip of wine.

"He would have been seventeen today."

"…I know."

"I never wanted kids," she said. "Have I told you that before?"

Happy stifled a yawn. "No."

"It was the one thing Ben and I disagreed on. But then Ben's brother and sister-in-law died, and suddenly I was stuck playing mom to a four-year-old."

"That must have been hard."

May thought of the engaging little boy who insisted on drinking chocolate milk out of green bendy straws and talked a mile a minute. Who hated bath time almost as much as bedtime and couldn't go to sleep without his favorite stuffed dog.

"It _was _hard," she agreed. "Peter…he was such a sweet kid. He was always so _happy_, even though he'd just lost his parents. And I was bitter because he screwed up the plans I had made for my life." Her voice cracked. "For the first few months, I barely even talked to him."

She remembered all the bright smiles that had been sent her way, smiles she'd met with blank stares for far too long. She was lucky Peter had never given up on her.

"May," Happy said gently, "your world got turned upside down, too. So you had an adjustment period. It's okay."

"But Peter was a _child_. A child who had just lost everything, and I acted like it was his fault." She sighed. "I just keep thinking…I didn't deserve him, and now he's gone."

"Because some maniacal alien wanted to play God. Not because you didn't love your nephew enough _thirteen years _ago. Listen, when you called me that first time," he chuckled dryly, "well, let's just say most people only yell like that when they're worried for someone they really care about."

May's eyes wandered to the side table, landing on a framed photo of herself, Peter, and Ben at Disney World when Peter was eleven.

"I just really miss him," she whispered, reaching once again for a tissue, even though she still didn't need it.

After a year, May had simply run out of tears.


	15. Bucky Barnes

_"Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
Take these broken wings and learn to fly  
All your life  
You were only waiting for this moment to arise."  
_-Blackbird, The Beatles

**Bucky Barnes  
**_(At Tony's funeral)_

Bucky wasn't sure how it happened, but he found himself standing alone by the lake while the other well-wishers milled about. Wanda had wandered off with Clint, and Steve and Sam were in deep discussion with King T'Challa. Uncomfortable, he stuck his hands in his pockets and did his best to blend in with the crowd.

"Bucky?"

He turned, and to his surprise saw Stark's widow approaching him.

"Uh, hi." He shifted awkwardly. "I'm really sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." Pepper's neutral expression didn't change, and Bucky got the sense she was sizing him up. She must have liked whatever she saw, because she smiled softly. "It's okay. Tony told me everything a long time ago."

"Oh." Was she about to kick him out?

"He left something for you," she said instead.

"For me?" Bucky couldn't conceal his surprise. "What is it?"

"Follow me."

Intrigued, and just a bit wary, Bucky followed Pepper inside the house. On the way he passed Steve, who gave him an inquisitive look. Bucky shrugged helplessly.

Pepper led him into a study and crossed to the far side of the room, where a screen was set into the wall. A couple of taps later, a life-size hologram of Tony Stark flickered into existence.

"He recorded this the day before…" Pepper trailed off. "I'll leave you alone to watch it." She stepped out of the room, shutting the door quietly. The image sprang to life.

_"Hey, Barnes. Bet you weren't expecting this, huh? Yeah, neither was I. I mean, I'm not even sure this time heist thingamajig is going to work, so you might still be dead and this message might be pointless—but I guess if you're watching this, it _did _work. And if you're watching this, I didn't make it. Which…really sucks to think about, to put it mildly. _

_"But getting to the point—you and I have some unfinished business. And I can't leave any of that crap lying around because I really don't want to come back as a ghost. I think Pepper would kill me all over again._

_"I still think about what went down in Siberia. I'm not going to apologize for the way I reacted to that video. Frankly, I think it was justified given the circumstances, but anyway. What's done is done. I was angry, and for a long time I didn't think I'd ever stop hating you. _

_"But I know it wasn't really your fault. Hydra manipulated you and created a monster. They made you capable of doing things you never would have done in your right mind. It took me some time to get there, but I truly believe that. At least, I think I do. Some days are better than others._

_"You know, they used to call me 'The Merchant of Death.' I'm responsible for the murders of a lot of people, too—maybe not directly, but the fact is, I did what I did under my own power. I had a choice. You didn't._

_"What I'm trying to say is that I can't keep resenting an essentially innocent man for something that happened more than thirty years ago. So…I forgive you. But I'm guessing that doesn't make you feel any better. You strike me as the brooding, 'filled-with-self-hatred' type._

_"Let me give you some advice, from someone's who's been there. I'm gonna sound like one of those terribly insipid motivational quacks, which I'm not proud of, but here it is: Let it go. You can't change what you did in the past, but you do have the power to make your future. I wasted way too many years wishing I could turn back time and start over, and it took becoming a father for me to wake up._

_"Consider this your wake-up call. Good luck."_

The hologram disappeared, and Bucky was left staring at a blank wall.

Stark was right: he didn't feel any better. Sure, it was…_nice_…to receive absolution from the son of two of the people the Winter Soldier had assassinated. But none of the blame Tony or anyone else put on him could compare to what Bucky put on himself. His nights were still haunted by the screams of the innocent people he'd killed, and he couldn't bear to look at himself in the mirror.

None of that had changed. Yet. But for the first time in years, Bucky could imagine a future where it might be possible. He'd been on the run or fighting or dead ever since escaping Hydra's control, but now…maybe, just maybe, he had a chance to start over.

He made his way back outside, and wasn't surprised when Steve appeared, a concerned crease between his eyebrows.

"You okay?"

Bucky closed his eyes and tilted his face up to the sun. He smiled. "I will be."


	16. Bruce Banner

_"When you feel my heat  
Look into my eyes  
It's where my demons hide  
It's where my demons hide  
Don't get too close  
It's dark inside  
It's where my demons hide  
It's where my demons hide."  
_-Demons, Imagine Dragons

**Bruce Banner  
**_(After Thanos is killed at the beginning of _Endgame_)_**  
**

For the first two or three years after the lab accident that effectively ruined his life, Bruce had been afraid. Not so much of the Hulk itself, but of the loss of control he felt every time the Other Guy took over. He never knew what damage it might inflict. _It_—because he couldn't see his green alter-ego as anything other than a monster.

Eventually, fear turned to resentment. All Bruce wanted was to live a normal life, one where he didn't have to isolate himself to keep everyone else safe. He wanted to get married, settle down and have a family. The Hulk made those perfectly ordinary aspirations impossible.

Animosity faded to bitterness, and then Bruce plummeted into a deep depression. In a moment of weakness, he tried to take himself out of the equation—only to discover that choice was no longer his to make.

By the time Loki came to conquer Earth, Bruce had pretty much accepted that he was doomed to spend the rest of his days locked in a neverending tug-of-war with his own personal "Mr. Hyde." Teaming up with the Avengers made things a little less lonely, but it hadn't done much to change Bruce's general outlook.

Now, though, he realized that resignation to his emotionally turbulent existence wasn't good enough. He didn't know whether the Hulk would have made the difference between defeating Thanos or helplessly watching the wannabe god snuff out half of life in the universe. But he did know he was a danger to the team if he couldn't freely access the strength that made him an asset. And Bruce was under no illusions that Thanos was the last threat the Avengers would be forced to face.

At the very least, he and the Other Guy needed to reach some sort of understanding. In order to do that, Bruce knew he would have to retreat into solitude yet again. But before he set off into his self-imposed exile, there was at least one person who deserved a proper goodbye.

**:**

He found Natasha in the kitchen, brewing tea.

"Hey," she greeted him casually, pouring a second cup without asking and slipping into a seat at the table. Bruce sat across from her.

"Have you heard from Clint?" he asked after a moment. Almost instantly, he regretted bringing up their friend, whose disappearance in the wake of the Snap was a definite sore spot.

Natasha's shoulders slumped just a fraction and she frowned into her drink. "No."

"He'll turn up." Bruce tried to sound confident, even though the only thing he was confident about was that they'd never find Clint if the archer didn't want them to.

Natasha smirked. "You're a terrible liar."

Bruce had been intending to ease into the news of his impending departure, but in his quest to find a new subject he found himself blurting out:

"Nat…I'm not staying."

"I know." She smiled wistfully and finally met his gaze. "This is never going to happen, the two of us. Is it?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I've got a lot to work on."

Natasha snorted. "I can't believe you're going with the 'It's not you, it's me' line."

"Maybe it's both of us."

She dipped her head in acknowledgement. "Where will you go?"

"Somewhere with a lot of open space. Arizona. California. Tony's got some land out near Yosemite, he said I could squat there for as long as I want." He shrugged. "What will _you _do?"

Natasha waved her hand, indicating the general vicinity. "Somebody's gotta keep the fires lit."

"Sounds like a lonely job."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You're one to talk."

Bruce sighed. "Yeah."

She reached across the table and took his hand, squeezing it gently.

"Just…don't drop off the face of the Earth this time, okay?"

He squeezed back. "I'll do my best."

* * *

A/N: I was never a big fan of the Natasha/Bruce storyline, but I thought it was a shame that there was no reference to it in _Endgame._

Plenty more to come! I've got chapters for Rhodey, Thor, T'Challa, and Dr. Strange planned out, and will probably also add chapters for Carol, Scott, Rocket, and possibly Nick Fury and Hope.


	17. Thor Odinson

_"I used to rule the world  
Seas would rise when I gave the word  
Now in the morning, I sleep alone  
Sweep the streets I used to own."_  
-Viva la Vida, Coldplay

**Thor Odinson  
**_(Between _Infinity War _and _Endgame_; before Tony and Nebula are rescued)_

God of Thunder. Rightful king of Asgard.

Thor had never felt so unworthy of those titles. He didn't feel like a god or a king. He felt like a failure.

He hadn't been able to save his mother, or his father, or his brother. He couldn't defeat Thanos when he had the chance, and now half the creatures in the universe were dead.

Just a few days ago, Thor had been so sure he'd hit rock bottom. That he could fall no further. After all, he'd lost everything. His family. His friends. His home. His hammer. An eye.

_"What more could I lose?"_

Those were a fool's words; a faint remnant of the arrogant prince Thor had once been. He'd been wrong (_as usual_, a voice that sounded a lot like Loki's hissed in his ear). Things could always get worse.

And now what? Thor's only shot at redemption was to succeed where he had failed before by killing the Mad Titan. If he couldn't bring back the lost souls who had been wiped from the universe with the Snap, he could, at the very least, avenge them.

It was for that reason that he returned to the compound with the others after their defeat in Wakanda. His remaining teammates were his best chance of locating the bastard who had killed Loki and now, countless others. He knew they were searching tirelessly for clues to Thanos's whereabouts, as well as for any sign of their MIA comrades.

There was nothing Thor could do. He didn't know enough about Midgardian technology to aid in the search; he'd only get in the way.

Waiting was not something Thor was particularly good at, and at present there were far too many dark places for his idle mind to wander. When he grew weary of sitting alone, envisioning chopping Thanos into pieces with Stormbreaker, he sought out Rocket to share in his sullen silence. The raccoon-like alien was stranded on Midgard, having watched his tree friend turn to dust before his eyes and with no way of knowing whether any of his other companions had survived the Snap. Thor thought he actually preferred his own situation—at least he knew his family was gone.

_But how can you be sure_? Loki whispered. _You've thought me dead twice before._

This time was different. Thor had watched the life fade from his brother's eyes, and he knew he'd never see them again in this life. Even the silver-tongued God of Mischief couldn't talk his way out of the grave.

_"You should have gone for the head."_

He played that scene over and over in his mind, and couldn't help wondering if the old Thor, the proud, mighty warrior who feared nothing and lived for battle, would have emerged victorious in the confrontation. But such speculation was pointless. He'd lost that blind self-confidence long ago. Once, Thor had thought himself invincible. Now he knew the truth.

Even gods can die.


	18. James Rhodes

_"My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,_  
_Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small,_  
_You never need to carry more than you can hold,_  
_And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,_  
_I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,_  
_Yeah, this, is my wish."  
-_My Wish, Rascal Flatts

**James Rhodes  
**_(After _Endgame_)_

Once upon a time, Colonel James Rupert Rhodes had been one of the most widely respected officers in the U.S. Air Force. He'd flown over 100 combat missions, risked his life more than once to save his comrades, and had the medals to prove it.

But that was years ago. Rhodey's day-to-day looked very different now. In fact, at present, he was wearing a bejeweled tiara and pretending to sip from a plastic teacup while a five-year-old carefully arranged her toys around a miniature doll's table nearby.

"Shouldn't Stripes and Ribbons be sitting together?" he asked, indicating twin stuffed tigers.

"They got in a fight yesterday," the little girl explained, and Rhodey nodded sagely as she settled on the carpet across from him. "Okay. We're ready to begin."

**:**

Rhodey took his job as Morgan Stark's godfather very seriously, especially after Tony's death. He was there for every important event. When Morgan lost her first tooth, he supplied the dollar bill that went under her pillow from the "tooth fairy." When she broke her wrist trying to climb a tree, his was one of the first signatures on her cast. When Pepper needed a night off, he often wound up as babysitter.

**:**

Morgan had her Uncle Rhodey wrapped around her little finger, and she knew it, too.

"You're not _singing_!" she accused him, tapping her foot impatiently. "I'm Megara, and you're _supposed _to be those five statue ladies. Now, go back and we'll try again."

"Sorry." Swallowing a sigh, Rhodey obediently rewound the movie to the appropriate point for probably the tenth time. He'd preferred her _Mulan _phase—at least the song from that one was a solo.

Morgan struck a pose. "If there's a prize for rotten judgment, I guess I've already won that! No man is worth the agga-aggra—" She turned to him. "What does 'aggra-va-tion' mean?"

His lips twitched. "Annoying."

**:**

In the past, Rhodey had been too busy with his military career to think seriously about starting a family of his own (He used to joke that looking after Tony was like having a kid anyway.) But he'd sort of taken for granted that eventually he would retire and settle down.

It never crossed his mind that his self-proclaimed "playboy" best friend might beat him to it. Or that Tony might not be around to watch his own daughter grow up.

**:**

Morgan was the perfect blend of her parents. She could be a bit reckless, like her father, but with enough of Pepper's common sense to keep her reasonably grounded.

Unfortunately for her babysitter, she'd also inherited a double dose of the "stubborn" gene.

"Tell me a story."

Rhodey glanced at his watch. "It's late. If your mom comes home and you're still awake, we'll both be in trouble."

Morgan crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip. "Then tell me a _short _story."

Rhodey knew surrender was imminent. He couldn't resist those puppy dog eyes—Tony's eyes, in a different face.

"Okay, kiddo. Which one do you want to hear?"

**:**

If there was one thing the last fifteen years had taught Rhodey, it was that life rarely turned out the way you had it planned.

He never thought he'd travel through time or journey to outer space. Had never expected to brush shoulders with gods or battle aliens. His visions for the future hadn't included the accident that left him paralyzed.

Rhodey still meant what he'd told Tony after Berlin: he fought because someone had to. And he'd keep fighting, as long as there was something worth fighting for.

His goddaughter—that little girl with her tea parties and Disney karaoke—was that something.


	19. Okoye

_"I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose_  
_Fire away, fire away_  
_Ricochet, you take your aim_  
_Fire away, fire away_  
_You shoot me down, but I won't fall_  
_I am titanium."_  
-Titanium, David Guetta ft. Sia

**Okoye  
**_(Between _Infinity War_ and _Endgame_)_

Birnin Zana's penitentiary, located in the heart of the Golden City, was far from a traditional prison. Vibranium eliminated the need for locks and bars. Instead, inmates had private rooms. Okoye could visit her husband as often as she pleased—although her opportunities for doing so were not many. Losing half the Dora Milaje to the Snap had left Wakanda's defenders shorthanded.

W'Kabi was waiting for her, as usual. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to be. He rose from his seat to greet her, and she allowed him to kiss her on the forehead. That was about as intimate as they got these days.

"How are things out in the world, my love?"

"The sun rises and sets on Wakanda as it always has," Okoye replied evenly, settling onto the chair across from her husband's. A bottle of wine and two glasses rested on the table between them, but neither moved to pour the drinks.

"It's been a while since you came to see me," W'Kabi noted.

"I have been busy."

"I hate to be a burden," he said sarcastically. "Would you prefer me to have disappeared?"

"I would prefer you had never committed the crimes that put you here in the first place."

"I was only thinking of Wakanda."

Okoye snapped. "No! You were thinking of your desire for revenge. You can lie to yourself, but do not lie to me." She took a breath and continued more calmly. "N'Jadaka manipulated you. He knew of your hatred for Klaue, and he used it to turn you against your king—against your closest friend."

"It was his birthright to challenge T'Challa for the throne."

"Yes. And it is my duty to serve whoever sits on that throne. But only as long as they are honorable and worthy of being Wakanda's ruler. N'Jadaka proved to be neither of those things. Yet you continued to follow him. You abandoned the proud traditions of our nation in favor of defending an outsider."

W'Kabi shot to his feet, slamming his fist on the table. "I know what I did! I have already been arrested and imprisoned for my actions; I do not need my wife to offer further judgment."

Okoye deflated. "I had hoped we might keep the peace today. Instead we are fighting, as always seems to happen."

"Then why do you continue to visit me?"

She pursed her lips. "Because you are my husband. And I still love you."

"But not as much as you love Wakanda," W'Kabi said bitterly.

"No," Okoye agreed. "You knew this from the beginning."

"Most women would place greater value on their relationships."

"Most women did not take an oath to protect this nation and its people, whatever the cost."

"And if the cost is our marriage?"

Okoye stood. "Then so be it." She made her way to the door. W'Kabi spoke before she could open it.

"I don't regret what I did."

She didn't look back. "I don't believe you."


	20. Stephen Strange

_"I remember when  
I remember, I remember when I lost my mind  
There was something so pleasant about that place  
Even your emotions have an echo in so much space  
__And when you're out there, without care  
Yeah, I was out of touch  
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough  
I just knew too much."_  
-Crazy, Gnarls Barkley

**Stephen Strange  
**_(After_ Endgame_)_

The Sanctum Santorum had a serene, academic feel that reminded Stephen Strange of the library at Cornell, where he'd spent hours poring over medical tomes in his quest to become a surgeon.

Usually Strange appreciated the tranquility, but tonight he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts. The vestiges of the nightmare that had driven him from his bed were still swirling around in his head; he could see the blood spatter everywhere he looked, and phantom screams echoed in his ears.

Since the battle, Strange's sleeping hours had been haunted by visions of the other 14,000,604 ways the war against Thanos could have played out, each scenario more horrible than the one before. He watched as the Mad Titan mercilessly slaughtered billions and laid waste to the entire universe over and over again.

Even though the Avengers had emerged triumphant, Strange couldn't help pondering the "what ifs." There were so many ways things could have gone wrong, and only the one way to get it right. He'd risked everything, essentially resting the fate of the world—of the _universe_—on the shoulders of a man he barely even knew.

Stark's widow had come to see him two weeks after the funeral. She got straight to the point:

_"Tony said you saw over fourteen million possible futures, and the Avengers only won in one of them."_

_Strange nodded once. "That's right."_

_"You knew he had to die."_

_There was no point in lying. "Yes. I knew."_

_Pepper took a deep breath and sat down. "Okay."_

_Strange crossed to her side. "I _am_ sorry," he said gently. "If there had been any other way…"_

_"But there wasn't."_

_"Your husband saved billions of lives."_

_Pepper smiled weakly. "That sounds really nice, but it doesn't help me explain to my daughter why her daddy can't come home."_

Her visit left the sorcerer with a sinking feeling of guilt. When he told Stark he wouldn't hesitate to let the man die, he'd meant it. But talking about something was very different from living out the consequences, and he couldn't stop lingering on the thought that he'd denied Stark the chance to say his goodbyes.

Strange had never asked to be burdened with the knowledge of what was to come. Given the choice, he would have passed that part of the job on to someone else. When you knew the future, it was all too easy to be consumed by making sure it came true—or making sure it didn't. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

He wasn't entirely certain it wasn't already happening to him.


	21. T'Challa

_"But if you close your eyes_  
_Does it almost feel like_  
_Nothing changed at all?_  
_And if you close your eyes_  
_Does it almost feel like_  
_You've been here before?"_  
-Pompeii, Bastille

**T'Challa  
**_(After _Endgame_)_

The aftermath of the "mass resurrection," as the news media often referred to the second Snap, was a bureaucratic nightmare.

T'Challa spent most of his first few weeks back embroiled in council meetings and consulting with his advisors, trying to sort out a country thrown into chaos for the second time in five years.

M'Baku was his biggest asset. The Jabari warrior had served as king of Wakanda in T'Challa's absence, but he was unexpectedly blasé about ceding the throne.

T'Challa had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, he was grateful that in a time with so many issues to solve regaining his throne would not be one of them. But he was also aware that he'd been gone for half a decade. Didn't his people deserve a leader who had been there—who understood what they'd gone through?

In a rare moment of peace, he sought Nakia's advice, knowing he could count on her to be completely honest.

"M'Baku has been a good leader. But you are the rightful king."

"Perhaps. But am I what's best for Wakanda right now?"

She laid a hand on his arm. "Wakanda needs strong leadership in these turbulent times. It is up to you to decide—is that going to be you?"

**:**

Even through the screen, Everett Ross looked tired, and T'Challa deduced he wasn't the only one who hadn't been getting enough sleep lately. But the agent's smile was genuine as he greeted Wakanda's monarch.

"King T'Challa. Good to have you back. It's been a long five years."

"You didn't enjoy conducting business with M'Baku?" T'Challa asked with some amusement, remembering what Shuri had told him about the CIA agent's first interaction with the 'Great Gorilla.'

Ross smirked. "Let's just say, he doesn't have your people skills."

"The Jabari aren't known for being particularly sociable," the Wakandan king agreed. "But from what I hear, our humanitarian initiative remains a success?"

"Wakanda's aid has been invaluable," Ross said. "Nakia's been overseeing the entire operation. She's a remarkable woman."

T'Challa nodded. "Yes, she is." He clapped his hands together. "Now. Bring me up to speed."

**:**

Gazing across the vast plains after yet another tumultuous High Council session, T'Challa considered the future of his nation and his own place in it. He was still unsure whether his leadership was the best thing for Wakanda under the present circumstances.

Sighing, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts to a number he never really thought he would use. It rang twice before someone picked up on the other end.

"Hello?" The voice was just a bit wary.

"Sergeant Barnes," T'Challa greeted, "I hope I am not interrupting anything?"

Barnes made a sound of recognition. "Your highness. No, I just finished my morning run."

"I'm envious that you have the time for recreation right now."

"Well, I'm not running a country." Barnes paused. "But I'm guessing you didn't call all the way from Africa to make small talk."

"No. I am trying to make a decision, and I need the opinion of an outsider who has spent some time getting to know the Wakandan people." T'Challa waited for Barnes' assent.

"I guess that makes me your guy."

"Thank you." Briefly, T'Challa explained his predicament. When he had finished, Barnes was quiet for a long moment. Then:

"You're right—we don't know what those years were like. We can't possibly understand what everyone went through. But have you thought about it from the other side? _They _don't know what _this _is like for us _now. _Sure, they had to adjust to a whole new world, but they've had five years to do that. We just got smacked in the face with the fact that we essentially stepped into a time machine and were whisked five years into the future."

"What's your point?"

"Two halves of the planet—hell, of the _universe_—went through two very different experiences. I think the world needs leaders from both sides. I mean, there isn't a perfect solution here. All we can do is try our best to pick up the pieces…and move on."

T'Challa sighed. "Easier said than done."

Barnes chuckled dryly. "Isn't everything?"


	22. Scott Lang

_"Just don't grow up so fast_  
_You don't want to know what I know yet_  
_Maybe on paper it looks better way up here_  
_Don't you hurry, try to take it slow_  
_You will get there before you know it_  
_Ain't just the bad times, the good times too shall pass_  
_So don't grow up so fast."_  
-Don't Grow Up So Fast, Train

**Scott Lang  
**_(Right after Scott and Cassie reunite in _Endgame_)_

He could have held his daughter on the porch like that forever, but finally Scott stepped back.

"What _happened_?"

"Where have you _been_?" she asked at the same time.

"You first," they chimed in unison.

Cassie laughed tearfully. "Let's go inside."

Scott couldn't take his eyes off his daughter as he followed her into the den. The little girl he knew was gone. In her place was a young woman.

_How long was I in there?_

"What year is it?" he asked as they sat down, half-dreading the answer.

Cassie smiled sadly. "It's 2023."

"I've been gone for _five years_?" His head was spinning. "It only felt like a few hours!"

"_What _only felt like a few hours? Where _were_ you?"

"I was trying to harvest energy in the quantum realm." His brow furrowed and he added, mostly to himself, "Why didn't Hope pull me out?"

"Oh, boy." Cassie twisted her fingers together anxiously. "I think maybe I can explain that."

Scott listened in disbelief as his daughter explained what had happened five years before. She described what she knew about Thanos and his battle with the Avengers. How he'd wiped out half the universe before the remaining heroes managed to defeat him.

Scott sat back in his seat, dumbfounded. "Well…shit." He clapped his hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

Cassie snorted. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Dad."

He gave her a long look. "No…I guess you aren't. I wish I'd been here to see you grow up."

She reached over and took his hand. "I'm not _all _the way grown up yet. At least, that's what Mom is always saying."

Belatedly, Scott thought of his ex and her husband. He glanced around. "Is she here?"

Cassie shook her head. "Mom's out. Jim's…gone."

"I'm sorry." Scott could imagine it must have been hard for Cassie to lose both her father figures at once.

She shrugged, gaze lowered. "It's been tough. But we finally got to a point where we had to accept that this was the way things were going to be." She met her father's eyes, and her own filled with tears again. "I still can't believe you're here. I thought you were gone forever."

He reached forward and tenderly tucked a strand of long brown hair behind her ear. "I'm so, so sorry."

She shook her head. "None of this is your fault."

"I should have been here for you."

"Dad, you were doing your job. You were helping people. Do I wish you'd been here instead? Yeah, but that doesn't matter now. You're home, and we can make up the time we missed."

**:**

Time. The word rattled around Scott's subconscious that night as he slept fitfully in the guest room of the Paxton house.

He'd entered the quantum realm in 2018 and exited it in 2023, a mere five hours later. Didn't that mean he'd essentially traveled _through_ time? And if time-travel was possible…

The sun had barely touched the night sky when Scott gave up on slumber and headed downstairs to see if there was any coffee. He wasn't really surprised to find his daughter and ex-wife already sitting at the kitchen table, mugs in hand.

"Couldn't sleep either?" he asked.

Maggie half-smiled. "It's not every day your ex-husband comes back from the dead."

"I wasn't dead," Scott reminded her, raising his hands in surrender when she gave him a look.

"I kept getting up to check you were still here," Cassie admitted bashfully. Scott bent down and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

He'd intended to ask about the coffee, but those weren't the words that slipped out of his mouth.

"I think there might be a way to bring everyone back."

They both stared at him.

"_What?_"

Now that he'd voiced the idea, Scott felt adrenaline begin to buzz through his veins. He repeated himself, more slowly this time.

"I think there might be a way to bring _everyone _back."

Maggie looked speechless, but Cassie leaned forward.

"How?"

"I'm not really sure yet. I need to run it by someone a lot smarter than me. I need the Avengers." Scott looked apologetically at his daughter. "I have to go."

Cassie rose to her feet. "But you just got here!"

"I know. And I really, really wish I could stay. But if there's even the smallest chance…I've gotta do this."

She searched his eyes before flinging herself into his arms.

"Promise you'll come back?"

"Peanut," he whispered into her hair, "wild horses couldn't keep me away."


	23. Rocket Raccoon

_"I've gone through life_  
_White-knuckled in the moments that left me behind_  
_Refusing to heed the yield_  
_I penetrate the force fields in the blind_  
_They say I'll adjust_  
_God knows I must_  
_But I'm not sure how_  
_This natural selection picked me out to be_  
_A dark horse running in a fantasy_  
_Flesh and bone_  
_Am I running out of time?_  
_Flesh and bone."  
_-Flesh and Bone, The Killers

**Rocket Raccoon  
**_(After Thanos is killed at the beginning of _Endgame_)_

It was anyone's guess, really, how this was gonna turn out—me and the blue chick, working as a team. But to be honest, I don't think it crossed either of our minds to move forward any other way. We just knew we had to stick together.

I guess it's kind of lucky it was me and not Quill, cuz I think she woulda killed that talkative smartass after a couple hours. Me, on the other hand…

I'm used to having partners who don't say much.

**:**

"I _hate _the rain!"

We had just returned to the _Benatar_ after yet another dead-end mission. That alone was enough to make me grouchy, but on top of that it started pouring mid-way through our trek back to the ship.

Nebula shrugged. "I don't mind it."

"That's because you aren't covered in fur!" I retorted, tugging my sodden vest off and shaking vigorously. I made to continue griping, but a glance over my shoulder made the words die in my throat.

It didn't matter how many times it happened and it didn't matter that it wasn't my fault—I never got over that sense of shame when someone saw the cybernetic implants in my back. Nebula was staring at them now.

I waited for her to react, but her face was unreadable, as usual. She passed me a towel.

"I'll prep for takeoff."

Wrapping the towel around my shoulders, I followed her to the cockpit.

"So how'd _you_ get all…" I waved my paw, indicating her general appearance.

She stiffened. "I don't know what you mean."

I sighed and crossed my arms. "Look, I've met a few Luphomoids in my day. None of 'em looked like you." When she refused to meet my eyes, I shrugged. "All right, I'll go first." I settled in the pilot's chair. "I wasn't always like this. I don't remember much about where I came from. Here's what I _do _remember: a lot of pain. Experiments that never seemed to end. They _changed_ me. Took me apart and put me back together all wrong. I'm not even sure which parts of me are mine versus theirs."

Nebula was looking at me now with an odd expression. It wasn't pity—I wouldn't have wanted her pity anyway.

"I wasn't always like this, either," she began quietly. "I suppose once upon a time I was…whole. But Thanos—I was never good enough for him. No matter what I did, I fell short. So he kept _upgrading _me, trying to make me into Gamora's equal. It never happened."

I smiled bitterly. "I guess we're both failed experiments."

She gave me a long look. "Yes. I guess we are."


	24. Carol Danvers

_"You live you learn, you love you learn_  
_You cry you learn, you lose you learn_  
_You bleed you learn, you scream you learn."_  
-You Learn, Alanis Morissette

**Carol Danvers  
**_(After Thanos is killed at the beginning of _Endgame_)_

Gravel rattled against the side of the pickup as Carol pulled down the driveway to the Rambeau house. It had been over twenty years since she was last here, but other than a new coat of paint, everything was the way she remembered it. She could see lights on inside, and her hands tightened around the steering wheel in anticipation as the truck slowly rolled to a stop.

The front door opened before she reached it. An unfamiliar silhouette was framed in the doorway for a moment, before a figure came into focus.

"Aunt Carol?"

At first, Carol thought the woman addressing her was her best friend. The resemblance was uncanny. A second later, logic took over.

"Monica?"

Her pseudo-niece stared at her. "You're alive!" She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I mean…you're alive!"

Carol laughed. "Of course I'm alive. Why wouldn't I be?"

Monica bit her lip. "We hadn't heard from you in so long…we thought something must have happened to you."

"A lot of things have happened to me," Carol said with a smirk. "But here I am."

Monica stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. "It's so good to see you."

"You're so much…taller now," Carol remarked as they separated.

Monica chuckled. "And you're exactly the way I remember you. How does that work?"

"I think it's the Kree blood." Carol grimaced. She jerked her chin at the house. "Is your mom here?"

Monica's face fell and she looked away. "Mom died last year," she said softly. "Breast cancer."

Carol felt like someone had punched her in the gut. She swallowed.

"Oh."

"When we got the diagnosis, you were the only person she wanted to talk to. But we didn't know how to contact you."

"I'm sorry." Liquid brimmed in Carol's eyes, and she sank onto the porch step.

Monica sat down next to her. "She always said you'd come back someday."

Carol used her sleeve to wipe away a wayward tear. "I wish I'd known," she said thickly.

"Me, too." Monica rested a hand on Carol's shoulder. "But Mom knew you were out there saving the universe. She was so proud of you."

The door opened behind them and they both turned to see a little girl, about six or seven years old, watching them uncertainly.

"Mommy?"

Monica stood and swept the child into her arms. "Hey, baby. I want you to meet a very good friend of mine. This is Carol."

The girl's eyes lit up. "She has the same name as me!"

Carol, who had risen to her feet as well, shot Monica a look of surprise. Monica smiled.

"Why don't you come inside? We have a lot to catch up on."


	25. Morgan Stark

_"When you've been fighting for it all your life_  
_You've been struggling to make things right_  
_That's how a superhero learns to fly_  
_Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power."_  
-Superheroes, The Script

**Morgan Stark  
**_(Six years after _Endgame_)_

In a world where superheroes, aliens, and magic were facts of life—where the impossible was true—fifth grade English assignments remained sadly predictable.

"I want you to write a short essay," Ms. Hildebrand instructed the class in her no-nonsense manner, "identifying who your personal hero is and why. Who do you look up to? Who do you want to be like when you grow up?"

Morgan knew everyone expected her to write about her dad, Iron Man, who had sacrificed his life to save the world when she was just a little girl. And it was true that he was one of her idols. How could he not be?

But the truth was, Morgan Stark was surrounded by heroes.

Her mother, a single parent who ran a high-profile company and yet never missed one of her daughter's karate tournaments or science fairs. To the world, Pepper Potts may have been the epitome of the modern working woman. As far as Morgan was concerned, she was just Mom.

Uncle Rhodey, who had seen the worst of what the world had to offer, but still believed in humanity's capacity for good. Rhodey was a moral compass; he had strong ideas of right and wrong and was prepared to defend them.

Uncle Happy and Aunt May, who didn't have magic powers or cool gadgets but stood by the Avengers no matter what, their faith unwavering.

Peter, the closest thing Morgan had to a brother, who never made her feel like she didn't know as much just because she was younger.

Morgan had been raised to believe that a true hero was the person who got knocked down ten times but stood up eleven. That description fit every member of her family. The people she loved had been through so much. They didn't owe the world anything, but they were still determined to make it a better place in any way they could.

_I have a lot of heroes,_ she began writing. _Let me tell you their stories._

* * *

A/N: I'm calling this story complete, for now. There are plenty more characters I could write about, but I don't have any further chapters planned out at the moment and I want to move on to other projects. Thanks for reading!


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